


Blame It On Me, Honey

by Synnerxx



Series: Habits (Stay High) [1]
Category: Megadeth, Metallica
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Arguing, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, No Lube, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synnerxx/pseuds/Synnerxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James and Lars have a fight and James does something he's not sure he regrets. (Load Era)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame It On Me, Honey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleep_and_feel_no_pain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleep_and_feel_no_pain/gifts).



> very belated birthday present. enjoy? also there's gonna be a sequel.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” James demands as soon as the door is closed. He folds his arms across his chest and glares down at Lars.

Lars turns around very slowly, very carefully. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” James snaps.

“Yes, I heard you, but I don’t know what you’re referring to, so please, elaborate.” Lars is speaking very slowly, very calmly and James knows the warning signs, knows how pissed off Lars really is right now, but he’s going to ignore that. His own temper demands it.

“The fuck were you doing hanging all over Kirk and kissing him in front of all the press and media?” James shoves himself off of the door and steps closer to Lars, staring him down, even though Lars has never been intimidated by their height difference.

“What does it matter to you? It’s not like you’re ever going to kiss me in front of anyone, so why do you care? For all intents and purposes, we’re not even together, so really, you have no right to question me about what I do.” Lars scoffs at him, turning away from him, hands tugging his jacket off.

“Lars, you do not want to have this argument with me right now.” James warns him.

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m tired of having this argument with you. I’m tired of you being unable to admit, even to our friends, that we’re together. I’m tired of having to pretend and to hide and to lie. I’m tired of wanting affection from you and not getting it. I’m tired of this.” Lars shakes his head, back still turned to James.

“So what are you saying then?” James asks, anger still pulsing through his veins, ignoring the the alarm in his head that’s telling him that this isn’t like their usual fight about this. Something’s wrong this time.

Lars turns to face him. "I'm tired, James. So fucking tired. I don't know if this is worth it anymore. I know why you won't come out and say we're together and I understand. I do. But this is wearing on me too much. I can't do it anymore."

"Fine. Then don't." James snaps, glaring down at Lars. 

"Remember you said that." Lars warns him before pushing past him and walking up the stairs to the bedroom. A few seconds later, the door slams shut and James scoffs. 

"Fucking dramatic bitch." He turns sharply on his heel and stalks to the front door, one hand digging his truck keys out of his pocket. He slams the door just to mock Lars and gets in his truck, taking off with a screech of tires and the roar of the engine. 

He drives to his favorite little shithole bar and gets out, heading inside. He takes his usual seat at the bar and the bartender takes one look at him and pours him a shot of whiskey, sliding it to him. James catches it and slams it down, hissing in satisfaction at the burn. He gets another one and slams that one down too before ordering a beer. 

"You've got to be shitting me." A too familiar voice says next to him. 

James turns and locks eyes with Dave Mustaine of all people. "Fuckin' perfect."

"What's got you so pissed off? Trouble in paradise with Lars?" Dave sneers at him, draining the last of the beer on his bottle and gesturing for a new one. 

"Fuck off." James shifts around again, hoping against hope that Dave will just ignore him. 

Instead Dave moves over and sits down right next to him. "Fighting with the little brat?"

"Dave, I'm never in the mood to see you, but right now, I'm really not in the fucking mood to even pretend I want to be civil." James grumbles into his beer. 

"Aw, come on. You can share all your woes with your good friend Dave and you'll feel so much better." Dave's smirk is vicious. 

"If you seriously think I have anything to say to you that doesn't start with fuck and end with you, then you're even more delusional than I thought." James snaps. 

Dave laughs, a sharp sound. "You look pissed enough that I have to make it worse."

"Of course you do. Because you're a fucking jackass." James gulps down his beer. 

"Another round? This one's on me." Dave catches the bartender's attention and gets them more beers. 

The anger is still burning through James' veins and Dave is really doing nothing to help. 

"You ever think about what it would be like if you and Lars hadn't kicked me out?" Dave asks suddenly. 

James groans. "No." 

"Well, we definitely wouldn't have gotten those stupid fucking haircuts." Dave smirks into his beer. 

"Don't you ever know when to shut the fuck up?" James turns to glare at Dave. 

"No, but you used to know what to do to distract my attention." Dave gives him a loaded look and takes a drink of his beer, eyes never leaving James' face. 

To his frustration, James can feel his face turning red. He remembers. He remembers the hot summer nights when they were young and dumb and drunk and thought they were going to take over the world together. 

"Ah, so you do remember. I was beginning to wonder." Dave crows.

"Shut up. Stop running your fucking mouth." James looks away from Dave and picks at the label on his bottle. 

"Make me." Dave flashes him a wicked grin and then slips off his barstool and walks pointedly to the restroom at the back of the bar. 

"Motherfuck." James growls under his breath. He drains the last of his beer and slams the bottle onto the wooden bar top and gets up, following Dave. 

As soon as he gets into the bathroom and closes the door, he's slammed against it and Dave's mouth is crashing against his. The kiss is rough and can barely be called a kiss with the amount of biting going on. James tastes blood and when Dave pulls back, his bottom lip is bleeding. He smirks and drops to his knees, hands deftly undoing James' belt buckle. 

James lets his head drop back against the door, fingers tangling in Dave's thick red hair and pulling as Dave sucks the head of his cock into his mouth, tongue teasing the slit. James inhales sharply as Dave slides down on his shaft, giving him just the barest hint of teeth when James looks down at him, blue eyes dark with lust. 

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and growls, jerking at Dave's hair when it gets to be too much. Dave wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and smirks, lips red and swollen. James huffs and switches their positions, shoving Dave up against the door and biting his lip again, sucking at the wound. 

Dave groans against James' mouth, pushing against him, making James hiss when his jeans drag against James' bare cock. James' hands slide down Dave's torso and grip the bulge he finds in Dave's jeans. He smirks when Dave moans, tightening his fingers around him until he relents and unbuttons his jeans enough to push them down Dave's thighs. 

James takes a step back and eyes Dave speculatively. "Turn around."

Dave opens his mouth to protest, but James glares at him and he shuts his mouth with a snap and turns, bracing his hands on the bathroom door. James steps back up to him, not quite touching him, and reaches over his shoulder, pressing three fingers against his mouth. "Suck."

Dave opens his mouth and James presses his fingers in, growling when Dave drags his tongue along then before wrapping his lips around the digits and sucking, making sure they're coated and slick, slurping loudly. James pulls them out, impatient as usual. 

Dave hisses when James pushes two of them into him without warning, but he pushes back against James' hand, cock throbbing between his thighs. James thrusts the third finger into Dave and Dave growls, fucking himself. James pulls his fingers out, smirking as Dave groans, momentarily forgetting that he's after something better. 

James spits into his hand and strokes his cock, tipping his back with a groan of satisfaction. 

"Stop fucking playing with yourself and fuck me." Dave snaps over his shoulder, glaring at James as best he can. 

"Don't be fucking rude." James snaps, lining himself up with Dave and thrusting into him with a smooth roll of his hips. He grins at Dave's strangled groan. 

He grips Dave's hips hard enough that there will be bruises later, but neither of them care as James begins to thrust into him, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into him hard and fast. 

Dave reaches down with one hand and curls his fingers around his cock, stroking fast enough that his knuckles are hitting the door. 

James groans at the tight heat around his cock, fucking into Dave harder and faster, listening to Dave's groans. It's not going to last long for either of them. Not at this rate. 

James snaps his hips forward a few more times, groaning as Dave gets tighter around him with his orgasm, coming all over the door in front of him. James buries himself inside of Dave and comes hard, shaking against him as he leans forward and bites at the side of Dave's neck. 

Dave slumps against the door, carefully avoiding the come he left there, hissing when James slides out him. He does up his jeans with hands that are trembling though he ignores it. James straightens out his clothing and turns to wash his hands at the sink. 

He wets a few paper towels and hands then to Dave. "Clean that up." 

Dave looks at him in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. That's gross." James frowns at him. 

Dave rolls his eyes, but cleans the door off, tossing the paper towels in the trash and nudging James out of the way so he can wash his hands. 

"Happy now?" He asks James. 

"Fuckin' ecstatic." James rolls his eyes. 

"Just so we're clear, this is a one time deal." Dave smirks at him. 

"No shit." James scoffs. 

"You need to go buy your wife something shiny and hope he forgives you for whatever pissed him off." Dave snickers. 

"Shut the fuck up." James snarls, anger flaring up again.

Dave shakes his head, but chooses not to say anything else, instead grabbing James’ ass and smirking when he yelps. 

James leaves the bathroom, Dave a half step behind him. James glances at the bar and freezes when he sees Lars sitting in his seat, sipping a martini and staring him down. 

Dave runs into James' back and curses at him, looking at the bar to see what the deal is. He cackles when he sees Lars and slaps James on the shoulder. "Better get your marriage back together." 

Another growled "shut the fuck up" follows him out of the bar and he laughs, waving mockingly at Lars, who flips him off. 

James slowly steps over to Lars. "You're not going to make a scene, are you?" 

Lars finishes his martini and sets it on the bar. "No. I'm not. But don't bother coming home tonight."

"Lars, come on." James reaches out to him. 

Lars shoves his hand away. "I don't have a problem with the girls you fuck, but after the argument we just had, you go and fuck Dave fucking Mustaine, of all fucking people?"

"Keep your fucking voice down!" James hisses, looking around the mostly empty bar. 

Lars sneers at him. "Fuck you, James."

James clenches his hands into fists. "Stop being such a fucking bitch about everything."

Lars cuts his eyes away from James and nods, muttering something to himself that James doesn't quite catch. 

James takes a breath and holds it, trying to control his temper. "Are you done?"

"Yeah. I'm done. With you." Lars slips off his stool and walks out of the bar. James heaves a sigh and takes up Lars' vacated seat. The bartender eyes him for a moment before sliding over a shot and beer. 

James is pretty sure he's fucked. He reaches into his pocket to adjust his keys since they’re stabbing him in the thigh and pulls out a piece of paper with an unfamiliar phone number scribbled on it.

Goddamn Dave Mustaine.


End file.
